Liyana | 1998 | MY
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• quarantine
• 2018.
• 2 Ogos 2018, 10:44 pagi.
• my b r a i n
• hello, again.
• come back
• -
• love: make you or break you?
• getting bad again.
• ?

3/4/2016 — Sunday.

we scream louder than the thunder
left us with a burning throat
the truth is, once we've settled down;
none of our voices were being heard.

tears fall down like a heavy downpour,
hidden sobs shake our rusty old lungs.
when the hand reaches to wipe it all off,
the tears were never there;
only the fresh scars that stung.

people watch; but what do they see?
“we're here and so do we care.”
but how much do they really mean?
they all hand us a diamond
that were mistaken for a glass
when they have seen the mess that
they all caused,
they flee away, at last.

how many times, sweetheart,
tell me, how many?
you looked into their eyes
with yours that scream “save me!”
with a smile as sweet as honey,
for they never truly see,
how much you are breaking
holding yourself from drowning
in the depth of sorrow's sea.

—L.D

accidentally forgotten this one. ugh. 

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

29/4/2016 — Friday.

you said that,
everything will be okay in the end.
but mum, why didn't you tell me?
a few of couple burns later,
a little now and a little then,
the sparks of fire will bring back
those burning sensation.
although the matches were never lit
and the flames were never burned.
just the nostalgic and traumatic experience.

you told me about the ending,
“everything will be alright, dear!”
but dad, what about the rising plot
and the climax before we hit the
dead end of the road?
leaving me feeling like i am dead.
because never once you told me that
when i put others as my happiness,
that's how i fall into self-destruction.
so maybe alright is not enough for me
when i have been crushed into dust
and blended in with the poisonous air.

the teachers never told me that
the moment i reached the recovering point,
it will never be the last i will get recovered.
because hey, a few relapses wouldn't hurt.
the crunching bones from my spine
echoed for lying too long on the bed,
when i'm thinking about the boy in my class
who vowed to never leave me
and solemnly swore that he will love
every inch of me and my darkness,
but ended up leaving me as soon as he bleed
when his gentle hands touched my sharp demon-like claws.

so, i covered myself with the fur
from the beast that i can never kill
because it has forever lived
underneath my flesh, bone and skin.
the darkness has been inside for so long
that it feels like home when it comes
to visit me, when they heard every lies
that i said when people ask me,
"how are you?"

this is a battle cry.
i repeat, this is a battle cry.
the pain that comes and goes frequently
never truly left me alone
even when, even when i feel better
the bitter are bothered by seeing
my faux smile and forced laughter.
because it knows for a fact that
i am never truly healed,
i just left the scars
untouched, untreated, unstitched.
so when it pokes me in the wound,
i fall into my knees,
begging with a plea to never come back
and to please leave me in peace.

with trembling hands, i twist the knob
to let the demons in and decided that
it could stay for another few months
until i finally feel that i deserve
a whole another journey of recovery.
but i am wrong, of course.
because this time, i am fatigued
with all the long pauses and breaks
before the ending comes.
so i just fell into the hole of giving up,
“hey, welcome, how may i help you?
drugs, blades, alcohol, punches,
or falling in love with the wrong person?”
and i choose with whichever
that can overlap my pain the best.

my thoughts are filled
with perhaps and maybes, that
just like when we miss the wrong people
every now and then,
we miss feeling the pain that burns.
maybe that's why, that's why
people don't let go of something that
breaks,
bruises,
wounds,
and scars them.
because holding on to pain feels
much less hurtful than
relapsing into the a whole new pain of
missing them again, and again, and again.

so, i quit reaching to the end.
and choose to stay at the pauses
with the pain instead.

—L.D., “darkness comes to visit.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

28/4/2016 — Thursday.

shaking lungs, uneven heartbeat.
i breathe through all the dust,
gritting teeth out of the rust.
forced smile, awakened silence.
taking it in, as people pulling it out.

"i dare you, to look me in the eyes and say
that you are sick. you are fucking sick in
the brain that you don't make any sense
in this world, any longer."

i gave up.

i look away. because let's be real,
people always need an evidence
for every single thing in this mad world.
and i cannot fucking
take out my brain and heart
and show it to them how much it is
damaged, bruised, and wounded,
they'll laugh every time.
because if you cannot see it;
it was never really there, right?

"pull your shit together, hun."

i am indeed.
shaking, trying to get a grip
of all my broken pieces that are
slowly, but surely is falling apart.
as i hold another pieces,
the other one falls.

"why are you so lazy?
get out of your room."

i am not.
it just hurts every time i move.
do you even understand at all?
the sharp edges scratch me
and cut me open till i bleed.
bleed, and bleed, and bleed away.
wishing that i can bleed the demons out,
but i lose my sanity a lot more
than the blood that bleed from
the unstitched battle scars.

it is hard to make people believe,
when they do not fucking care
in the very first place, is it not?

—L.D.

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

26/4/2016 — Tuesday.

i have never been in love with a moon
more than i do right now
but how did i fail to remember that
there are phases of moon
and when the time has come,
the moon will be completely gone
from the night sky
and all that's there is just myself,
sitting alone in the darkness
with the sound of midnight's silence.

the phases of moon goes from
full moon to half moon;
and half moon to crescent
into a complete darkness.
leaving me with all that familiar feelings;
the same as how your love towards me
fades away bit by bit.
and when it is the time of the month,
the feeling that was there is all gone.

so is there any possibilities
for me to run away from you,
thinking that i've gone far enough?
because don't you remember
that when we were in single-number age,
we always thought that the moon
is following us everywhere we go?

and i ended up running in circles,
as i thought that i have run far enough
i am actually closer to the starting line
than i ever did before.
or maybe i'm just running in denial
because i never want to be
far away from the presence of the moon
and never have i ever want to
lose my sight away from you.

—L.D., "so, please, dear moon, forget to fall down from the sky."

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

6/4/2016 — Wednesday.

i fell in love with a painter.
at first, he drew me,
but then, he drew all over me.
red splashes all over when
he splats the paint away.
the purple began to appear,
when i left it couple of days.
black and blue & black and blue,
i'm confused if that's the feeling
that i'm feeling
or is that the colours that i see
up under my pale skin.

—L.D., “he left me with colours that nobody else can see with their bare eyes.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

2/4/2016 — Saturday.

if you were to be a fictional character; you'd be the one that makes everyone happy in spite of getting hurt. you'd be the one who will carve a smile on everyone's faces even if you have to carve your own skin. you'd be the one who thought that your existence doesn't really matter when your companion can be convenient to some. you'd be the one with the blue eyes although the actual colour is dark brown; whose smile fakes a yellow bright sun. you would be all these things in the morning. but when the sky darkens, and clock struck past 12, you shifted into someone you knew. someone you hide under your skin, scared of showing your own scars. people talk, people see; but do they ever really speak to you and watch closely? deep within, you have been hurt numerous times but you played that happy character so well, that even you started to believe it. you keep yourself busy by making someone else happy, when someone else is watching you from afar on how you try to mend your broken heart. you'd be the one with thoughts that will never shut up when you are on your own. you think, you wait, but for what it costs, you don't know what's actually holding you back in mind. you'd be the one that never see their own beauty, but appreciate others tremendously. if you were to be written as a fictional character; i'd fall in love with you deeply.

—L.D

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

30/3/2016 — Wednesday.

how screwed am i;
when i let my curtains down at night
just so that i can see the moonlight
peaks in through my window
every now and every then?

how screwed am i;
when i feel like i don't mind
a little light from the moon
when i used to the darkness
for so long that i forgot
how beautiful the moon is?

how screwed am i;
that i can't wait for the day to end
because i have been longing
for the night sky and the moonlight
to keep me company for when
i can't sleep at night?

all of my past lovers are the stars
but you know what the people say,
“the stars are dead but the light is not,”
that's why the memories still haunt me
but your presence lights up
the darkness inside of me
and make me forget how broken
was i before you came.

so, sweetheart, tell me how screwed am i;
when i don't care if i'm screwed
to be in love with the moon that much
to be in love with the moon, that is you.

—L.D “so, honey, if you are the moon, i don't care how screwed am i as the gravity has chosen us to fall for each other.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

pt. II – how the breaker breaks the broken.

i'm telling you, honey. i'm telling you.
maybe you just turn your back to me,
have yet to move anywhere.
or that you just cover your wounds,
with a bandaid that keeps falling off.
because as soon as our eyes meet,
your heart finds its way back to me,
and your wounds were opened, unhealed.

i'm telling you, sweetheart. i'm telling you.
maybe you did build the highest wall
and burn all the bridges down.
but you threw the keys away,
leaving the front door unlocked.
so when i come back knocking,
you will open the door at ease.

i'm telling you, my love. i'm telling you.
maybe it's not the matter of time
for the wounds to heal nor
how far you've tried to run away from me,
you keep coming back to the same spot,
where you started.

because, my dear,
maybe all it take was the fact that
i have been there before,
that i know how to win your heart back.
maybe all it take was for me to
hit the right spot to lead me back
to the right place.

because, maybe
all it take was the memories
that was ever there and never left.
because you are too afraid to forget.

—L.D “the crack on your heart leaves a space for me to come and go.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

pt. I – tell me how do you break the broken.

tell me, honey. tell me.
how can i move on from you
and be be completely healed from the wound,
but the second our eyes collide,
the stars come back aligned.

tell me, sweetheart. tell me.
how can i build the highest wall
and burn all the bridges down
but as soon as you knock on my door,
i let you in every single time.

tell me, my love. tell me.
how can i let my guards down
when you were right in front of me,
standing. just standing.
not even talking to me.
not even looking at me.
yet, i still fall for you again.
like you're the gravity, pulling me down
to the surface of the Earth.

—L.D “how can i love you again when you were the reason to the crack on my heart?”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

20/11/2015 — Friday.

i hand you a white blank canvas
to let you paint me with colours
the way you want to look at me
in the way that i will capture your attention
and be mesmerised by my beauty
that you have created all over me.

you splashed me with red,
to symbolise our fiery love.
you splashed me with blue,
to symbolise the calmness of our love,
you splashed me with black,
to symbolise our mysterious love.

what you painted was a beauty
but everyone said it was a mess
but my love towards you
was strong enough to shield
the talks from coming in
i should have listened to them
i should have seen it through their eyes

the soon you left.
the red becomes my anger;
the blue becomes my melancholia;
the black becomes my soul.

maybe that was what you were trying to preach
that i was the definition of a walking disaster

i thought i knew what the meaning behind all of the colours that you used.
but i don't.

that was my mistake for letting you build me
and i should have known right from the start
that the hand that stroke the paintbrush on the canvas,
will be the same hand that will burn me down in flames
when you have found another pretty picture
to look at other than me.

—L.D "red, blue, and black are not my favourite colours anymore.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

8/10/2015 — Thursday.

i wore the tied up rope across my neck.
it was just a matter of time until i kick the stool
and the world will be pitch black.
but i know. i know that the time has come,
when your arms around my neck feels like
it'll choke me to death if i stay long enough.

i reached the blade to slit my veins open
for all the pains that's weighed down upon me.
i ended up throwing it away because
why would i keep something similar to
your i-won't-leave-you promises that
ended up leaving me with a stained-red
sheet and a bleeding heart?

i drowned myself to fill up the hollows
in my lungs because of your smile.
oh, how much you take my breath away.
but i drained the bathtub when i saw you
in the street with your new perfect girl
wearing the same breathtaking smile.
i no longer care about feeling empty.

this isn't another suicide poem,
it's a story for that has been left abandoned,
unspoken, becoming a screaming voice.
this isn't another suicide poem,
it's a story for that has been left worthless,
empty, that even every heartbeat echoes.
this isn't another suicide poem,
it's story for that has been replaced with
another better, giving it another bitter.

this isn't another suicide poem,
because honey,
not everything is about you, now, could it?

—L.D "loving you was one of the suicide option."

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

30/6/2015—Tuesday.

it took me the blood running down my arms to realise
that it is not carving my skin
and slitting my veins open
with a razor blade
that i snuck from my father
is a form of self mutilating

it took me the emptiness that i felt inside my stomach to realise
that it is not starving myself
and skipping three meals a day
leaving my mother worried
is a form of self harming

it took me the cracking lines on the walls to realise
that it is not the several punches that flew
and leave my knuckles bruising
in your favourite colour
is a form of self injury

it took me the darkness in my room to realise
that it is not isolating myself
and pushing people away
by building walls around me
is a form of self destructing

it took me a few days and months and years to realise that it is
how the sound of your laughter
echoes through my mind when i'm alone
how the colour of my coffee that i make to keep me wide awake reminds me so much of your eyes
how the warmth of the sun feels so alike to how you wrapped me around your arms
the aches that i feel all over my body where you leave the marks with your touch
the glances every once in a while in the hall whenever we bumped to each other still gives me butterflies
the teardrops that fall every night before i go to sleep to the thought of that you are now happy with her
the emptiness that i feel days and nights of  remembering how was it like to be loved by you
the happiness that has gone away once you left leaving me bleeding, empty, bruising, and in the dark
that is the biggest form of self mutilating, self harming, self injury, and self destructing.

letting you in was self mutilating.
falling in love with you was self harming.
putting you first was self injury.
giving you the control for my happiness was self destructing.

yet you told me to stop hurting myself.
but i just couldn't stop loving you.
don't you understand?

—L.D “just like how people are addicted to  pain, i'm addicted to loving you.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

24/5/2015 — Sunday.

remember when you said that
there is a light at the end of every tunnel?
oh God, how bad was i craving
and secretly wishing that
i could be your light.

but now do i realise or do i not
that in order to be the light;
i need to burn myself.

by this moment, i am burning myself
all that i can do is wait, wait, wait.
waiting for you to reach by the end
of the tunnel.

so long, i am hoping,
praying and begging to God
that you won't stop
in the middle way and decided that
you liked the cold from the darkness more
than the warmth of my light.

—L.D “you needed light; so i burned myself.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

26/2/2015 — Thursday.

the scattered pieces in the brokenness
along with the tearing-throat screams
and the teary-eyes sighs,
oh God when will this end?
why do we apply the glue to mend
things together even when we know it will
break again just before it could dry?
how many times have i fallen as my legs started to take another step as i rise?
i have crumbled my bones.
i have cried a river.
the dust and the tears created a mixture.
for my heart that drowned in it has
become a concrete. harder than rock but
still bleeds when the knife was pushed further in, deeper than it has ever been.
numb is now for all that i can feel.
and still am i the rock that bleeds.

—L.D “from a soul raised by a broken home.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

little do you know, how i'm breaking while you fall asleep?

helloooooooo guysssss. hehehe. i haven't post quite awhile (at least for me). sorry, but i've been quite busy. furthermore, i don't know what should i post. i wanted to do a january favourite but idk what mine was hahaha (i'll try to recall). ALSO, i can't assure you when will i post the short fanfiction because i havn't continued writing it yet. i already have the idea for the ending. i just really need to work for it. so in the meantime, i create a poem which i rarely do. so if i have any error, please forgive me. this poem is inspired by a song, Little Do You Know - Alex and Sierra. i know it's like freaking LONG, but bear with me :p i hope you like it ♥

Labels: feelings, life, my writings, poem, poetry, song, writings

3/4/2016 — Sunday.

we scream louder than the thunder
left us with a burning throat
the truth is, once we've settled down;
none of our voices were being heard.

tears fall down like a heavy downpour,
hidden sobs shake our rusty old lungs.
when the hand reaches to wipe it all off,
the tears were never there;
only the fresh scars that stung.

people watch; but what do they see?
“we're here and so do we care.”
but how much do they really mean?
they all hand us a diamond
that were mistaken for a glass
when they have seen the mess that
they all caused,
they flee away, at last.

how many times, sweetheart,
tell me, how many?
you looked into their eyes
with yours that scream “save me!”
with a smile as sweet as honey,
for they never truly see,
how much you are breaking
holding yourself from drowning
in the depth of sorrow's sea.

—L.D

accidentally forgotten this one. ugh. 

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

29/4/2016 — Friday.

you said that,
everything will be okay in the end.
but mum, why didn't you tell me?
a few of couple burns later,
a little now and a little then,
the sparks of fire will bring back
those burning sensation.
although the matches were never lit
and the flames were never burned.
just the nostalgic and traumatic experience.

you told me about the ending,
“everything will be alright, dear!”
but dad, what about the rising plot
and the climax before we hit the
dead end of the road?
leaving me feeling like i am dead.
because never once you told me that
when i put others as my happiness,
that's how i fall into self-destruction.
so maybe alright is not enough for me
when i have been crushed into dust
and blended in with the poisonous air.

the teachers never told me that
the moment i reached the recovering point,
it will never be the last i will get recovered.
because hey, a few relapses wouldn't hurt.
the crunching bones from my spine
echoed for lying too long on the bed,
when i'm thinking about the boy in my class
who vowed to never leave me
and solemnly swore that he will love
every inch of me and my darkness,
but ended up leaving me as soon as he bleed
when his gentle hands touched my sharp demon-like claws.

so, i covered myself with the fur
from the beast that i can never kill
because it has forever lived
underneath my flesh, bone and skin.
the darkness has been inside for so long
that it feels like home when it comes
to visit me, when they heard every lies
that i said when people ask me,
"how are you?"

this is a battle cry.
i repeat, this is a battle cry.
the pain that comes and goes frequently
never truly left me alone
even when, even when i feel better
the bitter are bothered by seeing
my faux smile and forced laughter.
because it knows for a fact that
i am never truly healed,
i just left the scars
untouched, untreated, unstitched.
so when it pokes me in the wound,
i fall into my knees,
begging with a plea to never come back
and to please leave me in peace.

with trembling hands, i twist the knob
to let the demons in and decided that
it could stay for another few months
until i finally feel that i deserve
a whole another journey of recovery.
but i am wrong, of course.
because this time, i am fatigued
with all the long pauses and breaks
before the ending comes.
so i just fell into the hole of giving up,
“hey, welcome, how may i help you?
drugs, blades, alcohol, punches,
or falling in love with the wrong person?”
and i choose with whichever
that can overlap my pain the best.

my thoughts are filled
with perhaps and maybes, that
just like when we miss the wrong people
every now and then,
we miss feeling the pain that burns.
maybe that's why, that's why
people don't let go of something that
breaks,
bruises,
wounds,
and scars them.
because holding on to pain feels
much less hurtful than
relapsing into the a whole new pain of
missing them again, and again, and again.

so, i quit reaching to the end.
and choose to stay at the pauses
with the pain instead.

—L.D., “darkness comes to visit.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

28/4/2016 — Thursday.

shaking lungs, uneven heartbeat.
i breathe through all the dust,
gritting teeth out of the rust.
forced smile, awakened silence.
taking it in, as people pulling it out.

"i dare you, to look me in the eyes and say
that you are sick. you are fucking sick in
the brain that you don't make any sense
in this world, any longer."

i gave up.

i look away. because let's be real,
people always need an evidence
for every single thing in this mad world.
and i cannot fucking
take out my brain and heart
and show it to them how much it is
damaged, bruised, and wounded,
they'll laugh every time.
because if you cannot see it;
it was never really there, right?

"pull your shit together, hun."

i am indeed.
shaking, trying to get a grip
of all my broken pieces that are
slowly, but surely is falling apart.
as i hold another pieces,
the other one falls.

"why are you so lazy?
get out of your room."

i am not.
it just hurts every time i move.
do you even understand at all?
the sharp edges scratch me
and cut me open till i bleed.
bleed, and bleed, and bleed away.
wishing that i can bleed the demons out,
but i lose my sanity a lot more
than the blood that bleed from
the unstitched battle scars.

it is hard to make people believe,
when they do not fucking care
in the very first place, is it not?

—L.D.

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

26/4/2016 — Tuesday.

i have never been in love with a moon
more than i do right now
but how did i fail to remember that
there are phases of moon
and when the time has come,
the moon will be completely gone
from the night sky
and all that's there is just myself,
sitting alone in the darkness
with the sound of midnight's silence.

the phases of moon goes from
full moon to half moon;
and half moon to crescent
into a complete darkness.
leaving me with all that familiar feelings;
the same as how your love towards me
fades away bit by bit.
and when it is the time of the month,
the feeling that was there is all gone.

so is there any possibilities
for me to run away from you,
thinking that i've gone far enough?
because don't you remember
that when we were in single-number age,
we always thought that the moon
is following us everywhere we go?

and i ended up running in circles,
as i thought that i have run far enough
i am actually closer to the starting line
than i ever did before.
or maybe i'm just running in denial
because i never want to be
far away from the presence of the moon
and never have i ever want to
lose my sight away from you.

—L.D., "so, please, dear moon, forget to fall down from the sky."

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

6/4/2016 — Wednesday.

i fell in love with a painter.
at first, he drew me,
but then, he drew all over me.
red splashes all over when
he splats the paint away.
the purple began to appear,
when i left it couple of days.
black and blue & black and blue,
i'm confused if that's the feeling
that i'm feeling
or is that the colours that i see
up under my pale skin.

—L.D., “he left me with colours that nobody else can see with their bare eyes.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

2/4/2016 — Saturday.

if you were to be a fictional character; you'd be the one that makes everyone happy in spite of getting hurt. you'd be the one who will carve a smile on everyone's faces even if you have to carve your own skin. you'd be the one who thought that your existence doesn't really matter when your companion can be convenient to some. you'd be the one with the blue eyes although the actual colour is dark brown; whose smile fakes a yellow bright sun. you would be all these things in the morning. but when the sky darkens, and clock struck past 12, you shifted into someone you knew. someone you hide under your skin, scared of showing your own scars. people talk, people see; but do they ever really speak to you and watch closely? deep within, you have been hurt numerous times but you played that happy character so well, that even you started to believe it. you keep yourself busy by making someone else happy, when someone else is watching you from afar on how you try to mend your broken heart. you'd be the one with thoughts that will never shut up when you are on your own. you think, you wait, but for what it costs, you don't know what's actually holding you back in mind. you'd be the one that never see their own beauty, but appreciate others tremendously. if you were to be written as a fictional character; i'd fall in love with you deeply.

—L.D

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

30/3/2016 — Wednesday.

how screwed am i;
when i let my curtains down at night
just so that i can see the moonlight
peaks in through my window
every now and every then?

how screwed am i;
when i feel like i don't mind
a little light from the moon
when i used to the darkness
for so long that i forgot
how beautiful the moon is?

how screwed am i;
that i can't wait for the day to end
because i have been longing
for the night sky and the moonlight
to keep me company for when
i can't sleep at night?

all of my past lovers are the stars
but you know what the people say,
“the stars are dead but the light is not,”
that's why the memories still haunt me
but your presence lights up
the darkness inside of me
and make me forget how broken
was i before you came.

so, sweetheart, tell me how screwed am i;
when i don't care if i'm screwed
to be in love with the moon that much
to be in love with the moon, that is you.

—L.D “so, honey, if you are the moon, i don't care how screwed am i as the gravity has chosen us to fall for each other.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

pt. II – how the breaker breaks the broken.

i'm telling you, honey. i'm telling you.
maybe you just turn your back to me,
have yet to move anywhere.
or that you just cover your wounds,
with a bandaid that keeps falling off.
because as soon as our eyes meet,
your heart finds its way back to me,
and your wounds were opened, unhealed.

i'm telling you, sweetheart. i'm telling you.
maybe you did build the highest wall
and burn all the bridges down.
but you threw the keys away,
leaving the front door unlocked.
so when i come back knocking,
you will open the door at ease.

i'm telling you, my love. i'm telling you.
maybe it's not the matter of time
for the wounds to heal nor
how far you've tried to run away from me,
you keep coming back to the same spot,
where you started.

because, my dear,
maybe all it take was the fact that
i have been there before,
that i know how to win your heart back.
maybe all it take was for me to
hit the right spot to lead me back
to the right place.

because, maybe
all it take was the memories
that was ever there and never left.
because you are too afraid to forget.

—L.D “the crack on your heart leaves a space for me to come and go.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

pt. I – tell me how do you break the broken.

tell me, honey. tell me.
how can i move on from you
and be be completely healed from the wound,
but the second our eyes collide,
the stars come back aligned.

tell me, sweetheart. tell me.
how can i build the highest wall
and burn all the bridges down
but as soon as you knock on my door,
i let you in every single time.

tell me, my love. tell me.
how can i let my guards down
when you were right in front of me,
standing. just standing.
not even talking to me.
not even looking at me.
yet, i still fall for you again.
like you're the gravity, pulling me down
to the surface of the Earth.

—L.D “how can i love you again when you were the reason to the crack on my heart?”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

20/11/2015 — Friday.

i hand you a white blank canvas
to let you paint me with colours
the way you want to look at me
in the way that i will capture your attention
and be mesmerised by my beauty
that you have created all over me.

you splashed me with red,
to symbolise our fiery love.
you splashed me with blue,
to symbolise the calmness of our love,
you splashed me with black,
to symbolise our mysterious love.

what you painted was a beauty
but everyone said it was a mess
but my love towards you
was strong enough to shield
the talks from coming in
i should have listened to them
i should have seen it through their eyes

the soon you left.
the red becomes my anger;
the blue becomes my melancholia;
the black becomes my soul.

maybe that was what you were trying to preach
that i was the definition of a walking disaster

i thought i knew what the meaning behind all of the colours that you used.
but i don't.

that was my mistake for letting you build me
and i should have known right from the start
that the hand that stroke the paintbrush on the canvas,
will be the same hand that will burn me down in flames
when you have found another pretty picture
to look at other than me.

—L.D "red, blue, and black are not my favourite colours anymore.”

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

8/10/2015 — Thursday.

i wore the tied up rope across my neck.
it was just a matter of time until i kick the stool
and the world will be pitch black.
but i know. i know that the time has come,
when your arms around my neck feels like
it'll choke me to death if i stay long enough.

i reached the blade to slit my veins open
for all the pains that's weighed down upon me.
i ended up throwing it away because
why would i keep something similar to
your i-won't-leave-you promises that
ended up leaving me with a stained-red
sheet and a bleeding heart?

i drowned myself to fill up the hollows
in my lungs because of your smile.
oh, how much you take my breath away.
but i drained the bathtub when i saw you
in the street with your new perfect girl
wearing the same breathtaking smile.
i no longer care about feeling empty.

this isn't another suicide poem,
it's a story for that has been left abandoned,
unspoken, becoming a screaming voice.
this isn't another suicide poem,
it's a story for that has been left worthless,
empty, that even every heartbeat echoes.
this isn't another suicide poem,
it's story for that has been replaced with
another better, giving it another bitter.

this isn't another suicide poem,
because honey,
not everything is about you, now, could it?

—L.D "loving you was one of the suicide option."

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

30/6/2015—Tuesday.

it took me the blood running down my arms to realise
that it is not carving my skin
and slitting my veins open
with a razor blade
that i snuck from my father
is a form of self mutilating

it took me the emptiness that i felt inside my stomach to realise
that it is not starving myself
and skipping three meals a day
leaving my mother worried
is a form of self harming

it took me the cracking lines on the walls to realise
that it is not the several punches that flew
and leave my knuckles bruising
in your favourite colour
is a form of self injury

it took me the darkness in my room to realise
that it is not isolating myself
and pushing people away
by building walls around me
is a form of self destructing

it took me a few days and months and years to realise that it is
how the sound of your laughter
echoes through my mind when i'm alone
how the colour of my coffee that i make to keep me wide awake reminds me so much of your eyes
how the warmth of the sun feels so alike to how you wrapped me around your arms
the aches that i feel all over my body where you leave the marks with your touch
the glances every once in a while in the hall whenever we bumped to each other still gives me butterflies
the teardrops that fall every night before i go to sleep to the thought of that you are now happy with her
the emptiness that i feel days and nights of  remembering how was it like to be loved by you
the happiness that has gone away once you left leaving me bleeding, empty, bruising, and in the dark
that is the biggest form of self mutilating, self harming, self injury, and self destructing.

letting you in was self mutilating.
falling in love with you was self harming.
putting you first was self injury.
giving you the control for my happiness was self destructing.

yet you told me to stop hurting myself.
but i just couldn't stop loving you.
don't you understand?

—L.D “just like how people are addicted to  pain, i'm addicted to loving you.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

24/5/2015 — Sunday.

remember when you said that
there is a light at the end of every tunnel?
oh God, how bad was i craving
and secretly wishing that
i could be your light.

but now do i realise or do i not
that in order to be the light;
i need to burn myself.

by this moment, i am burning myself
all that i can do is wait, wait, wait.
waiting for you to reach by the end
of the tunnel.

so long, i am hoping,
praying and begging to God
that you won't stop
in the middle way and decided that
you liked the cold from the darkness more
than the warmth of my light.

—L.D “you needed light; so i burned myself.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

26/2/2015 — Thursday.

the scattered pieces in the brokenness
along with the tearing-throat screams
and the teary-eyes sighs,
oh God when will this end?
why do we apply the glue to mend
things together even when we know it will
break again just before it could dry?
how many times have i fallen as my legs started to take another step as i rise?
i have crumbled my bones.
i have cried a river.
the dust and the tears created a mixture.
for my heart that drowned in it has
become a concrete. harder than rock but
still bleeds when the knife was pushed further in, deeper than it has ever been.
numb is now for all that i can feel.
and still am i the rock that bleeds.

—L.D “from a soul raised by a broken home.”

Labels: poem, poetry, writings

little do you know, how i'm breaking while you fall asleep?

helloooooooo guysssss. hehehe. i haven't post quite awhile (at least for me). sorry, but i've been quite busy. furthermore, i don't know what should i post. i wanted to do a january favourite but idk what mine was hahaha (i'll try to recall). ALSO, i can't assure you when will i post the short fanfiction because i havn't continued writing it yet. i already have the idea for the ending. i just really need to work for it. so in the meantime, i create a poem which i rarely do. so if i have any error, please forgive me. this poem is inspired by a song, Little Do You Know - Alex and Sierra. i know it's like freaking LONG, but bear with me :p i hope you like it ♥

Labels: feelings, life, my writings, poem, poetry, song, writings

Sometimes I wonder how people see me and what they think of me. It scares me a bit, honestly. I am sure though, that what they think of me, what they think my life is, is a complete misperception. I have always tried to show myself as a carefree person, as someone who wont get bothered because of public judgements. I am sure my friend and family think there is nothing going wrong in my life, that I do not worry enough, that I am always happy. And I am sure they probably somewhat hate me for it because, lets admit it, there is nothing worse than seeing someone who is life seems so perfect while yours is a complete mess. Truth is, I have become an expert at pretending. I think we are all experts or at least we are getting there.

links exchanged opened! just tag me but link me first

coming soon....